by Andrea Blake
His car was under test, but when he looked for a cab to hail Noelle suggested that they should bus to the Arc de Triomphe. The bus was crowded and they had to stand on the open platform.
“You see?” Alain said, close to her ear. “You even like riding on buses.”
“Only Paris buses. I used to hate the Underground in London.”
She held on to the rail, swaying with the movements of the bus. How far away London seemed, and how remote her life there. She had been in Paris only a few weeks, and yet she felt a totally different person. More alive, more sensitive. Or was it something deeper and more fundamental.
As they neared the Tregan’s house, Alain said, “We are going to meet again, I hope.”
“Why, yes—if you still want to,” she said shyly.
“Nothing has happened to change my mind about you, petite. I tell you what, how would you like to dine on the Tour Eiffel? There is a very good restaurant on the second platform.”
“I’d love it, Alain.”
“Then I will wait for you at the corner at our usual time.”
Noelle held out her hand. “Goodnight, Alain—and thank you for this evening.”
Usually they shook hands on parting, but tonight he raised her fingers to his lips. “A bientot.” His mouth brushed her knuckles. “Oh, and there is one other thing, Noelle.”
“Yes?”
“Our contract is broken now, you understand?” Before she could answer, he had turned and was walking away. Noelle watched him till he was out of sight, her brows drawn together. Then, still with a troubled expression, she went through the courtyard to the house.
When Noelle discovered that Robert had never been to a dentist, she went to see his mother and suggested that, even with milk teeth, routine checks were a wise precaution. Lady Tregan agreed, and an appointment was made with her own dentist.
Noelle did not mention the visit to Robert until shortly beforehand, thinking that he would accept it as an interesting adventure in place of their usual walk. To her astonishment, he first went pale with alarm; then burst into anguished tears. She was infuriated to learn from Ginette that her predecessor had apparently used the dentist as a threat against naughtiness.
Realizing that to postpone the visit would only make matters more difficult, Noelle promised the little boy that the dentist was only going to look at his teeth. She hoped, that his confidence in her would offset the tales he had been told, and after repeated assurances, Robert was finally persuaded to go.
The dentist was a kindly man, and did his best to make friends with the little boy, but after several rides in the chair and a painless examination Robert was still tearful.
They were walking along the street, Robert knuckling his eyes and sniffling, when a taxi drew to a halt a little ahead of them.
“Hello. Where are you two going?” Mark asked from the window.
Noelle had not been looking forward to their next encounter, but now her concern for Robert outweighed her personal feelings.
“Oh, Mr. Fielding, you couldn’t spare a few minutes, could you? Robert’s a bit miserable and you can probably cheer him up.”
Mark glanced at his watch. “Yes, I think so.” He go out of the cab and paid the driver. “What’s the trouble, old chap?”
Robert gave him a doleful and watery glance, and Mark produced a handkerchief and said cheerfully, “Here, have a good blow and we’ll go and find an ice-cream.”
By the time they reached a cafe the little boy was more cheerful, and a chocolate sundae restored his usual spirits. .But it was not until he went to pat a poodle at another table that Noelle explained his distress.
“It makes me furious when people frighten children like that,” she said angrily. “Even now he knows he won’t be hurt, it’ll probably take ages to get him really confident.”
Mark studied her indignant face. “You’re genuinely fond of him, aren’t you?” he said slowly.
“Well, naturally—who wouldn’t be? He’s such a dear little chap, and no trouble. I only wish—”
She stopped short, on the brink of an indiscretion.
Mark’s eyes were shrewd. She felt certain that he guessed the rest of the sentence.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you,” she said quickly. “But he was so miserable, poor pet.”
“I didn’t mind. This is a pleasant break for me,” Mark replied. He glanced at Robert, who was still absorbed in the poodle. “What happens when you have to leave a post? It must be a bit of a wrench for both you and the children.”
“Yes, it is sometimes,’,’ Noelle admitted gravely. “It’s difficult not to get too attached to them, and then they in turn become too dependent on us. Did you have a nanny, Mr. Fielding?”
He nodded. “My mother was a semi-invalid. But my nurse was nothing like you. She was a jolly old party in her sixties, with a figure like a flour sack and terrible bunions. About the only thing you have in common is that she would probably have tackled a burglar too.”
Noelle had wondered if he would refer to their last encounter.
“I imagine you can dine out on that story for some time,” she said lightly, pulling on her gloves. “Robert! We must go home now. Thank you very much for our ices, Mr. Fielding.”
He rose with her. “Did you get to sleep all right afterwards?” he asked casually, but with a glint of challenge in his eyes.
“Yes, I slept very soundly, thank you.” She felt sure he was remembering her abrupt departure from the library and the reason for her flight.
When Noelle went to meet Alain for their visit to the Eiffel Tower, she expected to find some change in him. His parting shot after their last evening together had puzzled and faintly alarmed her. But after half an hour with him, when he showed no sign of behaving differently towards her, she began to relax again. Perhaps he had just been teasing.
The top of the tower was glassed in, and it was the slow grind upwards through the web of girders that gave Noelle a touch of vertigo. She was glad when they went down to the second landing again.
“I’m glad I’ve been to the top, but I don’t think I’ll go again,” she admitted to Alain in the restaurant.
“You must have a souvenir of the occasion.” He felt in his pocket and produced a small box.
Noelle opened it. Inside was a delicate gold chain bracelet with a single charm attached to the links, a tiny replica of the tower.
“Oh, Alain—it’s lovely. But I can’t possibly accept it.”
“Why not? I would like you to have it,” he insisted gently.
It seemed ungracious to refuse, but Noelle knew that the bracelet was no inexpensive trinket of the kind which were on sale in a kiosk at the foot of the tower. This must have come from some expensive shop in the Rue Royale.
“Let me fasten it for you,” Alain said, and before she could object he had opened the clasp and slipped it round her wrist.
“Well, it’s terribly kind of you. Thank you very much.”
He fastened the clasp, then drew her hand towards him, opened her curled fingers and touched the palm with his lips. “There! When you are back in London the bracelet will remind you of tonight.” The caress, so much more intimate than a kiss on the back of the fingers, brought a wave of rosy color to Noelle’s cheeks.
“I don’t think I’m likely to forget it,” she said, a little unsteadily.
He was still holding her hand and looking at her in a way that was both new and disturbing. Noelle was relieved when the waiter brought their soup.
After dinner, he took her to a small dimly lit club near the Champs Elysees where a negro quintet played slow, sweet dance music. The floor was tiny and crowded and Alain held her close to him, his mouth an inch from her cheek.
Usually it was he who remembered it was time to take her home, but tonight he did not look at his watch.
At half-past ten she said, “Alain, I ought to be getting back.”
“So early? Can’t you stay out a little later tonight?
To go to bed at eleven in Paris—it is ridiculous.”
“I don’t have to be in by eleven,” she admitted. “But I don’t like to stay out longer without saying that I will be late back.”
She expected him to argue, but he shrugged and said agreeably. “Just as you like, petite.”
He was silent as they drove home. The cafes were still crowded, the shop windows alight. It did seem slightly absurd to be ending the evening at an hour when many people were only just going out.
Alain had always dropped her some distance from the house, but tonight he drove right up to the front door. Still without speaking, he shut off the engine and swung himself out of the car. Noelle waited for him to walk round the bonnet and open her door.
“Thank you again for the bracelet,” she said, as he helped her out.
He was holding her left hand, and now he took the other and turned her to face him. “You remember what I said last time we met?”
“Alain ...” She stopped, wishing she knew how to deal with this new situation, but not even certain of her own reactions to it.
“You can’t be afraid of love when you come to Paris, Noelle.” He tipped up her chin and gently kissed her mouth.
The door of the house opened, and a broad shaft of light fell on the couple on the pavement. Noelle blinked and instinctively pulled away. She heard Alain bite off an exclamation as he let her go. They both looked towards the doorway.
“Good evening,” Mark Fielding said curtly. He was silhouetted against the lights of the hall and she could not see his expression. But, with a feeling something like panic, she felt sure that his grey eyes were cold with contempt.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mark walked past them, his footsteps echoing in the quiet street.
“Who is that? I think I know him,” Alain said.
“His name is Fielding. He’s on Sir Robert’s staff.” Noelle’s voice was low and shaken.
“Fielding ... oh, yes, I remember now. I ran into him at an Embassy party some months ago. Well, now that he’s gone ...” He left the sentence unfinished, reaching out for her.
Noelle stepped back. “I don’t use this door, Alain. I go through the courtyard. Goodnight.”
She almost ran to the other entrance, hearing Alain call out, but ignoring him. In the corridor, she met Michel.
“You’re late tonight, mademoiselle,” he said, with an impudent grin.
Noelle thrust her way past him and stepped quickly into the lift. Ginette was lolling at the table in the day nursery. She had been manicuring her nails and there was a smell of acetone in the air.
“I thought you must have lost your way,” she said sulkily, with a meaning glance at the clock. “Can I go now?”
“Yes. Thank you, Ginette.” Noelle waited until she had left the room, then she leaned against the wall, and let out a long sighing breath.
After a while she looked quietly into both night nurseries, then went to her room and undressed. The feeling of shock and dismay had gone now, and she was beginning to feel angry. What right had Mark to judge her? That curt “good evening”, and the way he had strode past them—it wasn’t fair. He didn’t really know Alain, except by hearsay, but it was obvious that he had a very low opinion of the Frenchman and, after what he had witnessed, of herself as well, no doubt.
Well, let him think what he likes, she told herself defiantly, he may be a friend of the Tregans, but that doesn’t entitle him to censure my private life.
It wasn’t until she was in bed that she considered Alain’s part in the incident. He must have been puzzled by her hurried goodnight—unless he thought she had been escaping from a second embrace. And what had he meant by that remark about not being afraid of love?
The following morning, while Noelle was giving the baby her blackcurrant juice, Ginette brought a message that she was wanted in Lady Tregan’s bedroom.
When Noelle entered the room she found her employer’s sister and Madame Duvet were also present.
“Good morning, Nurse.” Lady Tregan was still in bed, a flounced cape of primrose lace around her shoulders.
“Good morning, madam.”
There was a pause while all three looked at her and Noelle notice that for once, the housekeeper had lost her sour expression.
“I’m afraid there has been a mistake, Nurse,” Lady Tregan said, after a moment. “These flowers were delivered to Mademoiselle du Val and, naturally, she opened the note accompanying them. But it seems that they are for you.” She gestured towards the silver florist’s basket beside the bed.
“For me?” Noelle echoed in astonishment. The basket contained at least two dozen long-stemmed white roses.
“Here is the note,” Anne-Marie said, holding it out—a small envelope. “I’m afraid I read the card before I realized your name was on the envelope.”
Noelle glanced at the envelope. It was clearly addressed to “Mme. N. Webster”. As she slipped out the card it enclosed and read the message, her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. There was no prefix and no signature, but it could only have come from Alain.
“We are intrigued, Nurse. It seems you are finding our city as romantic as its reputation,” Lady Tregan said lightly.
Noelle slipped the note in her pocket and managed a polite smile.
“I am most disappointed. I thought I must have made a conquest,” Anne-Marie said, touching one of the roses and bending to inhale its scent. “Is your admirer a Frenchman, Miss Webster? But of course—he must be! Englishmen do not make these charmingly extravagant gestures, I believe.”
It seemed to Noelle that the remark was less casual than it sounded, although she had no idea why the French girl should be interested in her affairs.
“Miss Webster, I think perhaps I should give you a word of warning,” Lady Tregan said swiftly. “You are still very young and cannot have a very wide experience of the world. While you are a member of my household I am, to some extent, responsible for your welfare. Since you have been with us such a short time, I conclude that you have only met your admirer on a few occasions. It may be that he is quite sincere in his regard for you, but I should be careful not to take these gallantries too seriously until you know more about him.”
“No, madam,” Noelle said evenly.
There was another pause, and she had a feeling that they were expecting her to say something more. “Well, no doubt you are busy in the nursery at this hour. Madame Duvet will assist you to take the roses to your room,” Lady Tregan said at length.
The housekeeper took one side of the curved silver handles and Noelle the other. But outside the room, the Frenchwoman left Noelle to manage the basket alone.
“You are fortunate that madame did not insist on explanation, mademoiselle,” she said, as they crossed the landing.
“An explanation?” Noelle raised her eyebrows.
“Such roses are not cheap. Your ... friend must be a man of means,” Her eyes ran over the girl’s face and figure in a way that Noelle found intensely unpleasant.
Suddenly she was certain that the whole business of the roses being wrongly delivered was a fabrication, and that Madame Duvet was responsible. Either the housekeeper had deliberately taken the roses to Mademoiselle du Val and waited for the mistake to be discovered, or she had acted more directly and taken them to Lady Tregan on the pretext of thinking it her ‘duty’. But if the latter was the case, then the opening of the note was their employer’s responsibility, and Noelle could not believe that Lady Tregan would countenance such a step, however curious she might be.
“My friendships are my concern, madame,” she said coldly.
“Gentlemen do not give such expensive presents without some ... expectations,” the housekeeper said slyly. “Your air of innocence may suffice for the present, but do not imagine that madame has dismissed the matter. Where her children are concerned, she is more watchful than you may think.”
Noelle bit back an angry retort and marched away to the nursery. All the pleasure the roses sho
uld have given her had been spoiled by that hateful woman and her sly innuendoes.
Later in the day she said to the nurserymaid, “Ginette, has Madame Duvet some reason to dislike English people?”
She had put the question as casually as possible, but the girl gave her a knowing glance. “I don’t think so, mademoiselle.”
“Oh ... I just wondered.” Noelle switched on the kettle and busied herself with preparing Victoire’s formula.
“It is not because you are English that she wishes to see you leave,” Ginette said quietly.
“To see me leave?” Noelle gave her a startled glance.
“Why, yes, mademoiselle. She has said so many times. It is no secret.”
“But why? What harm am I doing her?”
Ginette shrugged. “When Mademoiselle Karlstad was dismissed, old Duvet hoped that her niece would be engaged. She was very angry when she heard that Sir Robert had sent to England.”
“I see,” Noelle said slowly. “Why was Mademoiselle Karlstad given notice?”
“There was a great scandal.” Ginette’s eyes brightened and it was evident that, for her, the event had provided an enjoyable break in monotony. “I do not know exactly what passed, but Mademoiselle Karlstad was very distressed. She cried all the time she was packing her luggage. She said that she would never get another job as good as this one, and that old Duvet had ruined her.”
Well, she isn’t going to ruin me! Noelle thought forcefully. She wondered what had become of the Swedish nurse. Dismissal without references from a household like the Tregans’ would wreck the career of any children’s nurse, no matter how good her qualifications and previous record.
That afternoon Noelle left Ginette to watch over the baby and took Robert to the Jardin d’Acclimatation. He was a very forward little boy, and she thought he needed a wider range of entertainments than the daily walks in the park.
They went by the Metro, a great adventure for Robert as he had never before travelled on the Paris underground system. People in the train smiled appreciatively at them, for he looked very engaging in his pale blue coat and long white stockings, his round face flushed with excitement.